Dear Ralof Part II
by SteampunkSirenity
Summary: Ralof was in love. Yet, the gal he loved had chosen another. But what will happen when he also meets somebody else?


Part I s/7769543/1/Dear-Ralof

Ralof sighed as he read the letter, after he woke up in the blistering cold of Skyrim, in which he ignored. But the letter itself had crushed him. He reckoned this would have occured sometime, since that day he recieved a letter from Faolan, mentioning Aela's name. She already seemed to admire her.

He looked around himself. There was the snow around him, the ruin, the trees, and the lake that the bow had rested this day. That same bow that he had used his anger to split in half, and threw into the deep, dark, and cold lake. That same bow that had been given to him from Faolan, who had kept him fighting for two long years, the longest in his life. He recieved a beating from the several sleepless nights.

His girl? What a lie, he thought to himself, as he looked into the lake. He didn't want to see Faolan again. Not even hear her voice, or even think about her. Unfortunately, she was all he thought about for two whole years! He felt like a fool, believing she had waited for two years to marry him! But he loved her, and she doesn't anymore. It was all his loss.

A red-headed woman had caught his eye, whom was travelling through the snow. Ralof reckoned it may have been Aela, who stole Faolan's heart from him and crushed his. However, this woman was different. She did not wear war paint, which was a reason why Aela was Faolan's wife. But this woman seemed to be more than Aela.

She ignored the cold of the snow as he and any Nord would, revealing her Nordic blood. This woman carried a golden bow, possibly Dwarven, and she wielded a large battleaxe, forged with Skyforge Steel, by Eourland Gray-Mane himself. The woman was beautiful. Wavy red hair with green eyes, pale skin and freckles. She seemed around his age, or a miniscule of time older, in addition with her strong and tall build.

That very same woman caught sight of Ralof, and tilted her head, her eyes filled with question and confusion. Then, she began to walk toward Ralof, who had still sat by the lake, where the bow had laid. His face was red, and his nose the brightes, and his hair, along with his beard, was covered with snow, as ice rested in every open hole in his face. He was too tired to react to any of it, not that he would.

The woman, whom had approached Ralof, had sat next to him and began to feel his hands. She was silent, but showed reaction in her expressions. She appeared distraught, looking at Ralof, touching his face, and waving at him for a response.

"Hello?" She called with a wonderful and soothing voice, with a thick and unusual accent. She didn't say anything else before Ralof glared at her, then turned his back to her. But she was stubborn, apparant when she sat across from him again once more. "Lad, you need medical attention!" She said, feeling his forehead, and the bitter cold from his fingertips. But all Ralof did was ignore her.

She tapped his right cheek with the tip of her fingers, still attempting to gain his full attention. "I'm sorry." She said before raising her hand and closing her eyes, slapping Ralof across his face. Her hand caused his head to jerk to his left, and a group of bones had popped as he turned, causing a great pain.

He looked back at her and raised his hand, just about to hit her back. He hesitated, realizing that she desired to assist him. She sat perfectly still, without a flinch. She appeared to lean in closer to him instead of pulling away. "We need to take you someplace else." She said, as a large man covered with bear skins and furs approached the two. Galmar looked down harshly at the woman, who gazed back up at him without a fright.

"Ralof!" He called, looking down at him. "Have you been here this whole night?" He forcefully grabbed Ralof's collar, violently shaking his head, then raised him up on his feet. Galmar then clenched his hand into a fist, and threw it towards Ralof's stomach, where the woman had stopped him before his fist had hit.

She gave Galmar a vulgar expression on her face, creating a rage in the large Nord man, who pushed her to the ground before she regained balance and pushed him back. Ralof calmly watched, but was baffled by the sight that anyone would stand up to Galmar! He stepped away from the two before anything transitioned into a brawl.

The woman must be either brave or insane to go against Galmar Stone-Fist! But she kept defendign Ralof from him. Galmar took one arm from her and pulled her close, shouting into the depths of her ear, "Back away!" in a volume that echoes through all of Skyrim, possibly Tamriel, then shoved her down to the clammy snow. He turned toward Ralof, and grabbed him forcefully.

"Come at me, milk drinker!" They heard from her, making Galmar chuckle, before releasing Ralof, and turning around, gazing at her with the eyes of a sociopath! "Have some mead!" She threw a bottle of mead, specifically Honningbrew, into Galmor's head. Ralof let out a small chuckle, hoping Galmor had not heard, as he walked toward the woman, who didn't show any sign of fear.

Galmor took her throat with his large hand, and slammed her toward the hard ground. Ralof was alarmed by the sound of a loud grunt coming from her, and approached Galmor, then pushed him away from the woman with his foot. Galmor stood up and threw a fist into Ralof's left cheek, causing him to fall to the snow. "That's enough, Galmar." He heard, from Ulfric Stormcloak himself. "I haven't touched him until now, and he still has no beating!"

"I said, enough."

Galmar reluctantly walked away from the two, who appeared to be well done in. Ulfric looked at Ralof, then the woman, then back at Ralof. "Is this your girl, Ralof?" He asked with a smirk. Ralof let out a chuckle. "My girl? She isn't." He told Ulfric. "If you're looking for her, she is in the camp, planning her wedding with another! More like my loss!" Ulric looked at him with a distraught expression. "Does that mean she ISN'T, joining the fight for Skyrim?" He asked.

"Then who is this?" Ulfric asked, looking toward the woman, who remained silent. "She has a lot of courage, if she had the nerve to go against Galmar!" He said, letting out a chuckle. "Katyusha Sakalov, daughter of Aleksandr and Tanya." She told willingly. "No. I will not fight with the Stormcloaks, for my loved ones had died because of!" She gave Ulfric a menacing stare. "And I know what happens in Windhelm after years of living there! The Gray Quarter, the Argonian harbor, the prejudice and narrow thinking!"

"I will NOT fight for a man who's only ambition is leadership!" She spat, walking away sharply. She did not look back at Ulfric a second time, walking away into the distance.

Since that day, Ralof had thought of her. He no longer mourned his loss of Faolan, and instead hoped to see Katyusha once more, without any letters to send or recieve. But that was until he did recieve one.

Dear Ralof,

I doubt you remember me, but I came to you that day, and confronted the man known as 'Galmor Stone-Fist.' I had managed to recall your name, and send this to you from Falkreath Hold, where I currently build my home.

I hope to see you in my next trip to Eastmarch, which will happen sooner than expected. But first, I must retrieve a battleaxe wielded by Ysgramor, Wuuthrad. I am unsure if it currently lies in Ysgramor's tomb, Jorrvaskr, or in the Harbinger's hands.

If you know the Harbinger by any chance, please, inform the man of my search.

-Katyusha Sokolov


End file.
